


All the Love in the World...In a Post it Note

by excuseme_howdareyou



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Ric Grayson, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:02:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24612727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/excuseme_howdareyou/pseuds/excuseme_howdareyou
Summary: Sometimes when people are gone from your life, it's the little things that make you miss them the most. Dick always made Damian a lunchbox for school. When Dick became Ric, Alfred continued the tradition but... it's just not the same.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 89





	All the Love in the World...In a Post it Note

**@fantrash15 Dick always made Damian a lunchbox for school. But then the whole Ric thing happened. He always wrote a cheezy line on a post it note, like some 80's lyrics or just straight up "love you dami"**

* * *

While Dick was no great chef in the kitchen, he was not entirely helpless. Despite his many protests of "I can cook!" he was still rarely allowed to help out in the kitchen. Especially Alfred's kitchen. Now, Dick could cook and knew so many different ways to cook pasta. But the fact of the matter was that this was Alfred's kitchen and unless someone was fully awake and not running on three cups of coffee, they weren't allowed to help out. 

That still didn't stop him from sneaking in in the early hours of the morning, armed with a pen and an insulated lunchbox. Sometimes it was sandwiches, other times homemade soup in a heated thermos, one time he packed chicken alfredo pasta in a food thermos and got back a note saying 'needs more garlic salt'. There would be sides of course; a salad of some sort would be packed and sealed, always a fruit or two (mangoes were a favorite), and a helping of whatever dessert had been the night before. 

And always - _always_ \- a post it note stuck on top so that when Damian opened the lunchbox, the first thing he would see would be Dick's handwriting. 

_**'Made with ~love'** _

**'Don't stop beliiiiiiieving!'**

**'I fought the law and the law won ( _it did not in fact 'win' Dami, don't believe what they tell you)'_**

**'I love rock and roll.**   
**Put another dime in the juke box, Dami'**

_**'Have fun at school! Make friends and tell me all about it!'** _

_**'I love you Dami'** _

Damian said they were childish and unnecessary, that he needed them even less than he needed a home packed lunch. But Dick knew better. He always knew better.

* * *

"Not today, Pennyworth," Damian's voice was a rather subdued thing. It was such a clear contrast to his usual cavalier tone that Alfred had to blink and remind himself that he did not imagine it. Master Damian's lunchbox remained in Alfred's hand, held out in offering just before the lad was to exit the towncar and head up the stairs to school. 

Damian had insisted on walking to school himself, catch a bus, even pleaded to drive himself instead. Following Master Dick's... _injury_ , his father quickly and firmly shot down those ideas. The entire drive to school, Alfred had noticed Damian was rather quiet and lacking the usual distinctive repartee. He simply assumed he was still recovering from the shock of learning that Dick was now Ric. 

It wasn't until he heard the," Not today, Pennyworth," that Alfred realized something was far from okay. 

Having refused the lunchbox, a black insulated bag where the back was covered in various vigilante themed stickers (most likely put there by his brothers and sisters) and _'Damian Wayne'_ scrawled on the bottom in silver sharpie, Damian gripped the straps of his messenger bag and made to exit the towncar. 

Alfred hit the automatic lock before he could so much as open the door. 

"What?" Damian blinked in confusion at the move, reminiscent of something Bruce or Dick might've done. Jason if he was feeling particularly safeguarding. "Pennyworth, what is the meaning of this?" Damian turned back to the old butler. 

Alfred set the lunchbox down on the center console and looked him straight in the eye. Under his expectant gaze, he noticed how Master Damian shuffled minutely in the seat. Not because he was uncomfortable with Alfred's stare, but because he was uncomfortable altogether in this seat. He'd constantly been adjusting the seat controls, crossing and uncrossing his feet, one hand on the seat belt across his chest and systematically loosening it every time it drew too tight across his ribs. 

Damian did not like sitting in this car; it was uncomfortable and unfamiliar. And now he was refusing his lunchbox, with his favorite foods packed away and an extra brownie that Bruce snuck in there when he thought no one was looking. 

Then the answer hit Alfred all at once. Damian was used to riding to school in Dick's little orange sports car, and he was used to a lunch packed by his big brother. 

How to fix this, Alfred didn't know. He didn't know if anyone _could_ fix this. He opened his mouth, intending to... perhaps ask Master Damian what he could do to help? Implore that he took the lunch anyways because he was still growing and needed the food? Tell him that he was still dearly loved, and it was understandable that he missed Master Dick? 

But Damian misconstrued his silence as sternness and with a haughty sigh, grabbed the lunchbox. "Alright, I'll take the lunch," he grumbled and unlocked the door. He was outside and hefting the strap of his bag over his shoulder within a second. "Thanks for the ride, Pennyworth," it came out no more than a quiet mumble before the door shut behind him and Alfred was left watching as the boy trotted up the school steps off to start his day. 

_'Oh my dear boy...'_ was all Alfred could think as he put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, _' We'll figure this out eventually. I promise.'_

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus:  
> One random evening, Ric comes home to his apartment. Imagine his surprise when upon flicking on the lights, he sees another fucking Gotham vigilante sitting in his apartment. "I already told you guys-" he started snarling but was cut off when a pack of post-it notes hit him in the chest. "What?"
> 
> "I don't need Dick right now," the Red Hood grumbled, still sitting down despite having chucked a pad of yellow sticky notes at him," I just need his handwriting."
> 
> "What the fuck does that mean?" Ric held up the yellow notes in confusion," What are you expecting me to write?"
> 
> "Song lyrics. Nonsense. Simple shit like 'have a good day'," the Red Hood said," Boring shit like that. Whatever pops into your head."
> 
> Damn him, Ric thought, and fuck him too because despite his reservations, he found himself already pulling a pen out of his pocket. "What the hell you need those for?" he asked even as he wrote 'Have a good day'," Are you hoping it'll trigger my memories or something?"
> 
> God, he hoped that wasn't the case because then he's not gonna write another letter. 
> 
> This time Red Hood stood up and watched as Ric just put a simple frowny face on the next one. "Not everything's about you, Ricky."
> 
> "It's Ric."
> 
> "Either way, you're still a dick. Just write the damn notes and I'll be out of your hair."


End file.
